


Memento

by Mordinette



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/pseuds/Mordinette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Suicide Mission and before Shepard turns herself in for having destroyed the Alpha Relay, she gives a lock of her hair to Garrus as a keepsake. How will he react to this strange human custom? A fill for a prompt at the ME kmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt on the ME kink meme. The prompt was:
> 
> "After the collector base mission and just before going their separate ways, Shepard decides to give her alien lover a lock of her hair as a keepsake, much to his/her puzzlement. I adore Garrus, but this could work with any alien. Feel free to make this a minifill, a drabble, art!fill or anything really. I just want something cute with an alien getting both weirded out and utterly charmed by a little human oddity."
> 
> Thank you to Spyke1985 at ff.net for beta reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

"What's this?" Garrus narrowed his eyes with suspicion at the strange item in Shepard's outstretched hand. 

"It's a medallion with a lock of my hair," she explained enthusiastically, nearly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement. "See? You push this button, the locket opens, and here's my hair inside."

"Eww." Garrus gasped as he stared at the object at the end of the silver chain. He had just started to reach for it, but now his hand recoiled in horror and he took a step back.

"Eww? What do you mean, eww?" She snapped the pendant shut and put her hands on her hips, the necklace dangling from her fingers along her right thigh as she glared at him. "I thought you liked my hair. You said it was silky and smooth."

"Yeah, I like it—when it's attached to your head."

"What the hell's the difference?" She lifted her shoulders and turned her hands upward in an exasperated shrug. He could be so difficult sometimes.

"Well, it's not you anymore—it's just a part of you that you've cut off. And now it's dead." He tried to explain the obvious without angering her even more.

"Garrus," she sighed, "the hair on my head that you like to stroke so much is also dead. So it's basically the same thing."

 _'Gross,'_ he wanted to say, but thought better of it.

"It's just like your talons," she continued, "those are made up of dead cells, too. That's why it doesn't hurt when you file them."

 _'That's true,'_ he thought and nodded his head, relieved that now he could enjoy her wonderful hair again. He did love to weave his fingers through it and let the strands slide over and between them.

"But... why are you giving this to me?" He still didn't understand where she was going with all this.

"Because," she bit her lower lip as she tried to steel herself enough to squeeze out the words she needed to say, "I want you to remember me while we're apart. I thought that having a part of me with you would be a little bit like... having me with you. I don't know when we'll see each other again." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper and she had to fight back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "But if you don't want it—"

"No! I do want it!" He quickly closed the distance between them and snatched the chain from her hand before she had the chance to put it away. He pushed the little button on the side of the medallion and stroked the hair inside, swallowing hard at the thought that this was going to be his only connection to her for who knows how long. "Jane," he rumbled as he closed the locket then pulled her to him and held her tight, "do you really have to go? To hell with the Alliance."

"We've talked about this," she sighed, burying her face in his chest. "It's the only way to prevent the war with the batarians. I have no choice."

"Dammit," he growled, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she said and pushed her body into his, soaking up his heat and committing every little detail about him to memory: his scent, his touch, the shape of his plates under her fingers. This was all she could take with her; and this was one thing they could not take away.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later they docked at the Citadel and dropped Garrus off. He stood at the docking port, watching the Normandy pull out and take his heart with it. He stayed and stared into the darkness until he could see the ship no more, and for some time even after that. His feet frozen to the ground, he had to will himself to turn around and move away. _'Turians don't cry,'_ he kept reminding himself, but damn if it wasn't hard to see where he was going.

He still had his small apartment from his C-Sec days, but he had no fresh supplies in his cupboards, and whatever was left must have gone bad by now. So he headed to a store to stock up—most importantly he desperately needed a bottle of turian brandy.

The air in the apartment was stale, but he didn't care. He put the bag down, took out the bottle and pulled the cork out with one efficient move. He walked over to the couch and collapsed on it, propped his feet up on the coffee table and took a long swig of the liquor. As the alcohol slid down his throat, burning a path to his stomach, he remembered the night he and Shepard had spent at the Dark Star Lounge, having a drinking contest, then ending up sprawled out on her bed, too drunk to do anything but sleep.

They made up for lost time the next morning, though, he chuckled to himself, his plates shifting a bit at the memory of her mouth, her tongue, and her agile little fingers on his body.

Trying to distract himself from those arousing thoughts, he recalled the shock and joy he felt when he'd realized that she was alive and she was the one coming for him at his base on Omega. Then his mind flashed back to all the missions they went on together, just like old times, fighting shoulder to shoulder, always in tune with each other's thoughts and intentions.

He drank until he felt his brain was hazy enough to let him drift off into a dreamless sleep, then stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed. It didn't really help; he kept seeing her in his dreams, and when he woke up the next morning he reached out to touch her and pull her into his embrace. The bed beside him was empty, and it took him a while to become conscious enough to understand that it wasn't because she'd gotten up and gone to the bathroom or she'd decided to check something on her terminal.

His fist clenched into an enraged ball, ripping the sheets underneath, then he remembered the memento she'd given him. He got up in a hurry, rummaged through his clothes that he'd carelessly discarded on the floor, and found the necklace with the locket. With trembling hands, he pushed the little button and when the cover sprang open and the lock of her hair came into sight he softly stroked the delicate strands.

His chest filled with gratitude at what he finally realized was the best gift she could have given him: a part of herself, just like she said, that he could carry with him even while they were so far away from each other. He wished now that he could have given her something similar, but he hoped that she was thinking about him even without that.

He snapped the pendant shut then put the chain with it around his neck. It felt good to feel like she was there with him, right next to his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Later in the morning he went to the Presidium and asked for an audience with the Council to try to convince them of the severity and urgency of the situation with the Reapers. He had to wait a couple of days for them to finally receive him, but in the end it all turned out to be a colossal waste of time. They hadn't believed the hero of the galaxy, savior of the Citadel, so why should they believe him—an ex C-Sec officer turned Cerberus collaborator? He'd suspected that this was going to be the outcome, but still, he had to try.

With nothing left for him to do here, he booked passage to Palaven, hoping that he would have better luck with his father despite their strained relationship. He was a logical man, after all, who always considered the facts first before coming to a conclusion without any emotion or prejudice.

They sat in his office in their family home as Garrus laid out all the details of the last few months: the Collectors kidnapping humans, the Collector base with the human Reaper embrio, the clock ticking down to the Reaper invasion.

Vakarian Sr. listened carefully, his features darkening more and more as he put all the pieces together from his son's account.

"The Primarch is my friend," he said when Garrus finished and after he'd pondered the issue for a few moments, "I'll try to talk to him. Maybe he can help."

"Thank you, father," Garrus nodded, not letting himself get carried away, but still hopeful that maybe now something will be done.

"You are staying here, are you not?" His father leveled his stern gaze at him, like he always did. It used to make him uneasy, but after all that he'd been through he just didn't care anymore.

"For now," he replied coolly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. The older Vakarian raised a brow plate, but didn't say anything. _'There's a first time for everything,'_ Garrus thought to himself with a satisfied grin. Maybe this visit wasn't going to be so painful after all.

 

*** 

 

"Garrus, what the hell are you doing?" the voice of his father grumbled at him from the doorway. Garrus was lying on his back under the bathroom sink, tools and plumbing parts scattered all around as he struggled to take the corroded pipe apart.

"I've dropped something," he grunted as he gave a desperate shove to the wrench in his hand, trying to loosen the coupling nut so that he could free the trap and examine it.

"Why didn't you just call a plumber?" Vakarian Sr. asked, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. He was glad to have his son at home, but he was getting a little tired of his constant brooding and stomping around in the house. He knew that it was hard for him to sit still and wait for the Primarch's answer, but this was getting ridiculous.

Garrus didn't answer, just groaned as he put more muscle into trying to turn the wrench. His father sighed and left in resignation, shaking his head as he retreated to his office, determined to hunt down his friend and force out a meeting with him.

If he had stayed he could have seen the relieved expression on Garrus's face when he finally managed to loosen the nut, took the pipe out and dumped its contents on the floor. Not caring one bit about the mess he'd made he desperately searched through the disgusting gunk that had accumulated ever since the house was built. His panic turned into exhilaration when he finally found what he was looking for: a medallion at the end of a silver chain that had fallen into the drain when he washed his face in the morning.

He leaned against the cabinet door and clutched the locket to his chest, thanking the Spirits for letting him keep his treasure despite his clumsiness. The jewelry and his hands were dirty and sticky, so he rinsed and dried them off before he carefully opened the medallion to marvel at the precious contents. A lump formed in his throat as he caressed the silky hair, and he decided to pay a visit to a repair shop and get the clasp fortified. This could never happen again. Ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Garrus and his father eventually managed to talk to the Primarch and (though Garrus didn't quite get the kind of support he was hoping for) a task force was formed to make preparations for the impending Reaper invasion. He was put in charge and it kept him busy during the day, but the nights were lonely and miserable. He had no information about Shepard other than what he'd heard on the news about her being under arrest and awaiting trial on Earth for the destruction of the Bahak system.

Then the Reapers came and soon he found himself on Menae, defending the moon and acting as a consultant to the military. With both Earth and Palaven burning, his hopes for a reunion with Shepard evaporated and he threw himself into fighting those damn monsters with a vengeance. His courage and determination earned him the respect and admiration of his men and the friendship of General Victus, but it didn't prevent them from giving him curious glances when they saw the medallion on the end of a silver chain that he wore around his neck. He never took it off; not even in the shower.

The only person who actually asked him about it though was Adrien Victus, and even that only happened after a night of drinking, talking and reminiscing when there was a couple of day's worth of lull in the firefight.

"So..." He gestured at Garrus's torso with the glass in his hand as they relaxed in his tent, the light of the lantern, hung up in the center, throwing dancing shadows on the tarp walls around them, "what's the story behind that... jewelry?"

Garrus unconsciously touched his chest where the locket was hanging under all that metal and his undersuit as he let out a wistful sigh and his eyes gazed off into the darkness. "It's a keepsake," he finally said, the subtle quiver in his sub-harmonics a telltale sign that there was more to it than that.

Victus nodded knowingly then took a gulp from his drink. They sat in silence for a while, then he continued with his questioning. "From somebody special?"

"Yes," Garrus answered without hesitation. _'Very special,'_ he thought, but he didn't volunteer any more details.

Adrien studied his face for a while, wondering if he should ask any more questions, but he'd been so curious about this for such a long time that he couldn't resist.

"It doesn't look turian," he casually remarked. "Is it asari?"

"No. Human," Garrus replied, the strain in his voice belying the outward calm of those two simple words, and Adrian finally understood why his friend had been so upset when they'd heard the news about Earth.

"I'm sorry," was all he could say as he dipped his head and thought about the countless lives lost all over the galaxy.

"Yeah. Me too," Garrus murmured and grabbed his glass so hard that it almost cracked.


	5. Chapter 5

The Reapers renewed their attacks the next day and there was no time to wallow in self pity or to ponder the what ifs and the should haves. A lot of good men died, including Primarch Fedorian, but they kept up the fight and did all they could to keep Menae from being overrun by the enemy.

He was out on the field, taking care of a horde of husks when he heard some chatter on the radio about an Alliance shuttle having landed on the moon and a few human soldiers heading towards General Corinthus' camp. His heart thudded loudly in his chest at the news, but he quickly suppressed the surge of hope that threatened to override his good sense.

 _'Just because it's a team of humans it doesn't mean that Shepard is one of them,'_ he reminded himself. Besides, as far as he knew, she was locked up in military prison when the damn Reapers attacked Earth, unarmed and unable to even defend herself. He clenched his fists and let out an unconscious growl at the thought, silently cursing the Reapers, the batarians, the Alliance— the whole galaxy—for what they did to her.

But still, he was desperate to talk to those humans and ask about the situation on Earth—even if the information was not going to be what he wanted to hear.

He threw himself into the fight with renewed purpose and as soon as all the husks had been dealt with he headed to Corinthus' location.

When he entered the camp and caught sight of the small group, heatedly discussing something, he immediately knew that it was her. He couldn't really see her face, but he would have recognized her shape and her body language from a mile away. His heart started to race and he sped up his gait a bit, but he had to control the urge to run over to her, pick her up, and hold her tight until she'd beg for him to let her go.

As he got closer and closer he started to hear their conversation and realized what it was all about: Since Primarch Fedorian was dead, they needed a new Primarch to attend the war summit.

"I need someone—I don't care who, as long as they can get us the turian resources we need," he heard Shepard say, her voice tense and urgent.

"I'm on it, Shepard. We'll find you the Primarch," he announced confidently as he walked onto the platform and joined the group, trying to hold his emotions in check.

"Garrus!" she exclaimed, her scowl changing to shock and joy in a matter of seconds. "You're alive."

 _'I can't believe it. I thought you were dead. I'm so relieved I could cry,'_ her eyes said, and the look on his face mirrored her sentiment.

Fighting the urge to jump into his arms she reached out and took his hand, and the familiar feeling of his fingers wrapping around hers filled her heart with so much  warmth that the misery of the last six months instantly melted away.

"I'm hard to kill—you should know that," he joked, and he thanked the Spirits that the same thing was true for her.

"Good to see you again," she said. "I thought you'd be on Palaven."

"If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven," he explained. "I'm the closest damn thing we have to an expert on Reaper forces, so I'm... advising."

Meanwhile, General Corinthus had heard back from the Hierarchy and found out that it was General Victus who was to be the next Primarch. All they had to do now was to contact him and get him to leave Menae to go to the war summit, but of course things could never be that simple: just as Corinthus was trying to raise Victus a harvester appeared overhead and headed to the air field.

They went after it and it was just like old times again: fighting alongside each other, synchronizing their attacks and clearing the battlefield of the enemy as efficiently as possible.

She was as skilled and agile as always, even after six months of inactivity, but he couldn't help but keep an eye on her surroundings and picking off any husks that dared to get too close to her. He knew that she could take care of herself, but dammit, after all he'd gone through and finally had her back, they were not going to take her away from him now.

After they'd repelled all the attacks, found Victus and convinced him to leave for the summit, he was more than happy to join Shepard on the Normandy again.


	6. Chapter 6

Once on board, he settled in at the forward battery and began checking out the main guns. Shepard was busy with messages and holo-conferences, so he tried to distract himself until he could finally talk to her in private.

Their reunion on Menae went well (albeit limited by their circumstances), and he could see that she was happy to see him, but now that she was right here, back in his life, and not just an unreachable ghost from his past, his old doubts resurfaced with a vengeance. Though it had been half a year since they'd last shared her bed, he still had the strongest connection to her that he'd ever had to anyone, and he couldn't imagine falling in love with anybody else ever again, but... Did she still share those feelings? Or did she realize while they were apart that they were too different and a human was more in line with what she needed?

He had trouble concentrating, his fingers hitting the wrong keys and entering erroneous numbers repeatedly, and he was just about to give up when the door swooshed open and she walked in.

She had been standing on the other side of the door for several long minutes, trying to collect herself and calm down her racing heart before she would join him in his lair and find out if he was still as committed to her as she was to him. After all, six long months had passed, and while she was under guard, unable to go anywhere or do anything, he was out in the world, free to meet other people and... Maybe even start a relationship with somebody else. She felt as if a cold hand had squeezed her heart and drained it of all warmth at that thought, and for a moment she considered just walking away. But she knew that she was being foolish to give up so easily, so she steeled herself and clenched her fists as she walked through the door. And now here she was, not sure how to start, so she resorted to what she always did when she felt like this: she tried to make a joke.

"Garrus. Didn't waste any time getting to work, I see," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"After what I've been through lately, calibrating a giant gun is a vacation," Garrus answered her teasing with his own little quip as he turned away from the console to face her. "Gives me something to focus on."

Her brain wanted to say something witty and light-hearted, but her heart did not cooperate.

"Garrus," she started, stepping closer and biting her lower lip before looking up at him from under her long eyelashes, "did you think about me while we were apart?"

"All the time," he replied, his beautiful blue eyes boring into hers with the same intense heat that invariably set her senses on fire all those months ago, and she didn't need more than that to set the  butterflies free in her belly and let her blood pool between her legs. "And you?" he asked, taking her hands in his and pulling her close.

"Thinking about you and hoping that one day we'll meet again was the only thing that kept me sane," she said.

He bent down and brushed his forehead against hers, and they stood there like that for a while, eyes closed, forgetting about the war, the Reapers, and everything else.

"I have a few more things to do, but I'll be done in an hour. See you in my cabin then?" she finally broke the silence and grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling with the kind of happiness that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"I'll be there," Garrus replied, his mandibles flaring in a toothy smile. "And I'll bring this along," he added, bending down and picking up a bottle of expensive wine from under the counter. "I can afford the good stuff now," he smirked as he cradled the drink in his arms.

"See you then," she chuckled, then turned around and left.

Garrus couldn't stop smiling for the next one hour.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the reunion dialogue on the Normandy a bit, because in this story they'd had a longer relationship than just one night before she gave herself up.


	7. Chapter 7

Going through the reconnaissance data, the requisition lists and writing her own reports took longer than she'd expected, so by the time she was done with her shower and exited her bathroom, wearing her white, fluffy robe and nothing else, Garrus was already there.

He'd been sitting on the couch, the wine and two glasses lined up neatly on the low table in front of him, but he stood up with a happy smile when he saw her come down the stairs.

"Sorry, things took a little longer than I'd thought," she said, noting (with no small amount of satisfaction) that he had changed from his armor into his civvies. This made things so much easier. Removing all that metal always took a fair bit of time, and she couldn't wait to snuggle up to his bare skin and caress his plates.

"That's all right. I like to see you in your robe," he chuckled, his sub-harmonics vibrating with a deep quiver as he pulled her close and bent down to nuzzle her neck.

He inhaled her intoxicating scent, filling his lungs, his soul, his whole being with her essence. Slowly lifting a trembling hand he ran his fingers through her hair, reveling in the feel of the silky strands sliding between them. They were still a bit damp from her shower, but they felt as wonderful as he remembered. He'd dreamed about this so many times during those lonely nights, and now here she was in his arms, warm and soft, and he wanted to soak in every part of her and commit each little detail to memory.

A soft sigh escaped her lips when he nipped at her ear then dragged his tongue over her skin, and she slipped her hands under his tunic to stroke the sensitive areas between his plates.

"Let's take this off," she suggested in a husky voice and tugged on his shirt, then watched with breathless anticipation as he stepped back to give himself a little more room, grabbed the hem on the bottom and pulled the cloth over his head.

And then she saw it: the silver chain with the locket that she'd given him all those months ago, hanging around his neck, its polish in perfect harmony with the slightly metallic shine of his carapace.

She stood there, speechless, as she gaped at the jewelry, her heart filling up with so much emotion that she thought it was going to burst. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, worried about the expression on her face and the tears brimming her eyes. This wasn't exactly the reaction he'd expected when he'd removed his top.

"You've been wearing that?" she asked back without answering his question, her gaze fixed somewhere around the middle of his chest.

He looked down to check what she was staring at, and he finally understood what she meant. During these past months the necklace and the locket had become as much a part of him as his fringe or his talons or his cowl, and he instinctively lifted his hand to caress the medallion that had been faithfully safeguarding his treasure inside.

"Yeah. You were right—having this was a little bit like having _you_ with me," he said with a warm smile. "Thank you."

The next moment she closed the distance between them in one quick step, threw her arms around his neck and showered his mouth plates and mandibles with hot kisses.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, stroking the soft patch of skin on the back of his neck.

He kissed her, long and sweet, before he answered. "I missed you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

"I wished I had a certain part of _you_ with me while I was locked up," she said with a chuckle when their lips parted and her hands moved down to his narrow waist. "But I had to make do with my own fingers while I was thinking about you." She leaned back to look into his face and she winked at him with a mischievous smile.

A low rumble erupted in his throat and his plates fully opened at her confession.

"You fantasized about me?" he asked in a raspy voice, his blue eyes boring into hers, sending shivers down her spine, and she had to swallow hard before she could answer. Even though what she'd said was true, she'd merely meant it as a joke and did not expect him to latch onto it. Of course, she should have known better than that, but now it was too late.

"Every night," she said in a low voice, almost a whisper, and when he put his hands on her shoulders and began to pull the top of her bathrobe open her knees got so weak that she had to clutch his cowl to hold herself up.

"Tell me," his voice hummed as he slid one hand under the terrycloth fabric, cupping her breast and palming it gently.

"What?" she asked, licking her suddenly parched lips and desperately trying to stay coherent despite the way his callused fingers were teasing her nipple, making it hard to breathe—let alone talk.

"Tell me about your fantasies," he purred again and licked the crook of her neck.

"Ohhh," she whimpered, blood rushing to her groin, and it took all her strength she had left in her to get out the words and tell him about one of her little scenarios. "We... would get undressed," she stammered as she clumsily tugged on his pants, "then you'd pick me up and carry me to the bed."

He let go of her, kicked his boots off, then undid his pants and pulled them off, dropping them on the floor beside them. Next, he pulled the belt of her robe open and peeled the whole thing off of her body, his gaze drinking her naked form in with hungry eyes, then he picked her up, putting one hand behind her knees and cradling her upper back with his other arm, and carried her over to her bed.

He carefully laid her down on the mattress and climbed over her, settling down between her legs as he rested his weight on his elbows.

"Then what?" he murmured, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. He could feel her vein rapidly pulsing under her skin, its beat perfectly matching the frantic thumping of his own heart.

"You'd nip at my throat and shoulder... _ahhh..._ Just like that... Then first your hand would move down and caress my breast, then you'd bend down and lick my... _umhh..._ nipple..."

She clung to his fringe as he did just as she said, fondling her breast with careful fingers and licking the hardened little peak in the middle. As he grazed her skin with the slightest touch of his teeth, careful not to cause any damage, he could feel her body tremble and her grip on his fringe intensify almost to the point of pain. He closed his mouth plates around her breast and swirled his tongue around her nipple, his hand still massaging the underside of her soft mound, and he hummed happily when her hand slid down onto the back of his head, dragging her fingernails across his leathery skin.

He loved the familiar feel of her squishy flesh under his fingers and the taste of her skin on his tongue, but his groin was throbbing with desire, and he longed to touch other parts of her body. But, since she seemed to enjoy his little game, he wanted her to ask for it first, no matter how much effort it took for him to wait. So he turned his attention to her other breast, lavishing his attention on that side now, and asked between two licks, "And then?"

 


	9. Chapter 9

She shivered and her fingernails dug into the back of his neck as she answered in a breathy voice—oh yes, she definitely liked this game, "Then... your hand would travel down... and... _uhhh_.... you'd push a finger in between my legs..."

He faithfully followed her instructions again, slowly dragging his talons down her taut stomach until he arrived at her pubic area and started to draw little circles in the coarser hair down there, trimmed but still incredible to touch. She inhaled sharply and bucked her hips, impatient for him to continue, encouraging his fingers to move lower, and when they did, she let out the most lustful moan he'd ever heard from her.

It didn't take more than that for his cock to fully emerge, and he could hardly wait to push himself inside her hot channel, but he was determined to see this through, so he dipped a finger into her wetness and started to circle her clitoris.

Her breathing rose and fell in rhythm with his movements as he rubbed the little bud with his thumb around and around and up and down, then pushed another finger inside, curving it slightly, and slowly started to move it in and out.  The rumble in his chest joined her ragged gasps as she ran her small hand up and down his muscular arm while he continued to lave her breasts as he worked those sweet spots between her legs. Her thighs started to quiver and he could feel that she was close, so he increased his pace and pressure and soon she cried out and her whole body shook, her channel clamping down on his finger so hard that he couldn't help but hiss at the sensation.

She went limp after a few moments, and he pulled out his finger and dragged his hand up her body, cupping her breast on the way, then gently stroked her arm and bent down for a kiss. He purred contentedly as she caressed his fringe all the way from the top to its underside, and when she whispered, "Garrus, make love to me," he couldn't have been happier to oblige her.

He aligned himself to her entrance and slowly pushed in, watching her face for any sign of discomfort, but all he saw was pleasure and anticipation, so he started to move in long and deep strokes. Her warmth enveloped his shaft and her inner walls constricted around him as she matched the roll of his hips with her own and they rocked in a smooth, gliding motion, the air still and quiet around them but for their heavy breathing as they moved in perfect harmony.

Waves of pleasure washed through their bodies as he pumped in and out, his face buried in the crook of her neck and her fingers running up and down his back, caressing his plates and the sensitive areas between them. It felt as amazing as he'd remembered to be inside her, to meld with her, be one with her, and she couldn't get enough of touching his hot skin and inhaling his scent as he moved with just the right speed and pressure, his ridges rubbing just the right spots with each and every thrust.

"Did you... _ahhh_...fantasize about... _mmm..._ me?" she asked, panting, her hand settling down on his waist and squeezing lightly.

"Y-yess," he replied in a strained voice as he lifted his head to look into her eyes and started to piston in and out with faster and harder strokes.

She tried to keep her gaze on him, but soon she couldn't focus any more and had to close her eyes as the increased speed and friction pushed her over the edge and she reached her climax with a shudder, crying out his name, her inner muscles spasming around him. He kept pumping as she came down from her high, then he flipped them on their sides, cradling one of her legs and lifting her other one and hooking it over his waist, settling it down on the little ledge above his hip bone, as he continued thrusting into her.

"This was... one of... mine," he murmured as he pushed and pounded harder and harder, his fingers running down her back, her waist, her buttocks—squeezing and relaxing and caressing again and again.

The new angle let him press in further than ever before, and she almost forgot to breathe as her nerves lit on fire, sending jolts after jolts of delicious electricity to her brain, and she couldn't hold back the whimpers and mewls that erupted in her throat. In no time he pushed her over the edge again, and she came with a sobbing moan, her back arched and her body shaking, clutching his cowl and holding onto him through her orgasm.

He followed her soon after with a loud growl, his hips jerking erratically a few more times, spilling his seed inside her until he finally quieted down with a contented sigh. He stroked her hair from her scalp all the way down to her back with a shaky hand as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was way better than any fantasy," she said in a breathless voice when she could finally talk and he flared his mandibles in a happy smile as he brushed his forehead against hers.

"Definitely."

They lay there in blissful contentment, whispering sweet nothings to each other, forgetting about the world around them, until they dozed off.

Later that night Garrus woke up with a startle, and for a second he thought that he was back on Menae, alone on his cot. His heart sank when his hazy mind told him that his reunion with Shepard had been just a dream, but when he rolled over and bumped into her warm, sleeping form, right next to him in the bed, his heart filled with so much joy that he could barely contain it. He put his arm around her and nuzzled her hair, and for the first time in six months he could go back to sleep knowing that she was still going to be there in the morning and that he would never let her go. Ever again.

 


End file.
